A New Way

   "Unless the Lord had helped me, I would soon have settled in the silence of the grave. I cried out, "I am slipping!" but Your unfailing love, O Lord, supported me. When doubts filled my mind, Your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer." Psalm 94:17-19

  My therapist patiently listened as I revisited the events of my step-dad's passing. So many moments have been forever seared into the visual memory bank. Trauma does that and when hyper vigilance is in full gear, it amplifies everything: the sounds, the smells, the environment, the slightest of changes unfold in slow motion. When the memory leaps up out the past, it's strong enough to erase the present. 

  Clinicians call it flashbacks. They can be utterly debilitating when your body stays in the present but your brain is reliving the past.

  I have an arsenal of tools I've used over the years whenever the flashbacks decide to appear. Mostly they help me come back to today. 

  It's taken some time to realize I have no control over a when a flashback might strike, but, by the grace of God, many of them have lost their power through other healing strategies. The memories are still there but they don't hijack my brain as often. For that I am most grateful.  

   Today's conversations led to a different approach. The other tools were about breaking free from the flashback and coming back to the present. Basically they slammed the book shut. Sometimes successfully. Other times not so much.

  The flashback memories are just one piece of a whole story. I think most of us can relate to reading a book with a scary part. Unless it is really scary, we all continue to turn the page to see what happens next. Our hearts may beat harder, our mouths may be dry, our hands may even shake a bit as we keep on reading. Nevertheless, we keep on going!

  A traumatic memory has already been written, unforgettably so. There were events leading up to it. There were events afterwards. Today birthed the realisation it's important to give space for further remembering or, at least, trying to remember what happened next. I am hoping it will enable me to find closure.

  We gave it a trial run. As my therapist and I explored a key childhood memory. (It's one that the Lord has been bringing to mind a lot lately.) So, stretching back through time and allowing myself to remain in the memory, I tried to remember what happened next. 

  I hit a wall of blank nothingness.

  Instead of giving up, I looked closer at the wall. The event had birthed a stew of overwhelming, confusing and toxic emotions. So fierce was the incomprehensible, emotional onslaught on a little girl's heart, it only left one option: shut down. It was the only thing Cricket knew would work to stop the pain.

  So even though I have no memory of what actually happened next, there is greater understanding. I can identify our feelings and validate them. I am able to offer comfort when there had been none. I can reassure both of us that we had no other option but to shut down. 

  This is good. This is a key to wholeness and wellness I've been missing. But most of all, instead of locking the flashback memories away in a box, they will be integrated into our, my, story.

  Just not too many in a day, okay, my Lord? This isn't easy.

  As for my step-dad, I can remember other things beside the shock-trauma over the state he was in...like his utter delight in having a Quarter Pounder with cheese for lunch. I can focus on the peace he found once he was hospitalized, clean, receiving pain meds and having his head wound cared for. I can celebrate that his childhood friends could finally see him and that his son was with him in his final hours. 

  I can be most thankful that through everything, I knew the Lord was there.

  Jesus, You are who You say You are...Comforter, Redeemer, Healer, Friend. Thank You for all You are doing, for all You have done. AMEN! 

  

Psalm

   "But in that coming day no weapon turned against you will succeed. You will silence every voice raised up to accuse you. These benefits are enjoyed by the servants of the Lord; their vindication will come from Me. I, the Lord, have spoken!" Isaiah 54:17

  I am God's child. He is my Father, my Abba. 

  He is truth and hope and love and all that is beautiful in this world. He is the joy that greets the rising sun. He is the peace that watches the waters ripple and wrestle with the wind. He is the wind. 

  He is the companion of sleepless nights and watchful days. His Word, His Son, are all I need to overcome the thief, the liar, the author of doubt and self loathing. But most of all, He will cast confusion aside and scatter it to the wind. He is the wind.

  He is my comforter. Like a soft down filled blanket, His feathers cover my heart and wrap my soul in shimmering, living, breathing light.

  I am not alone. 

  

  Ever.

  In the times when I feel unseen, He sees.

  In the times when I feel unheard, He hears.

  In the times when words don't come easily, He waits.

  In the times when I doubt the path I am on, He guides.

  In the times when I feel I've failed, He redeems.

  In the times when I don't understand, He teaches.

  When I am afraid, He is courage.

  

  With Him and because of Him, I become real, not some deceptive fabrication formed to appease, to please, to earn love. With Him, I find the strength to break out of the mold. Even when I crawl back into it because it is familiar, He offers a hand to climb out once again...and again...and again. Each time I become more real.

  His real.

  The need to lie falls away as grace heals the wounds that built the mold; as I forgive the builders and release them into God's hands again...and again...and again.

  And when the builders cry out to come back, I find the strength to walk away.

  I am a child of God. I am His. He is mine. Always.

  

  

  

Heavenly Whispers

  "He also asked, "What else is the Kingdom of God like? It is like the yeast a woman used in making bread. Even though she put only a little yeast in three measures of flour, it permeated every part of the dough."" Luke 13:20-21

  There's been a bubbling up, a rising up, of clarity. With clarity comes acceptance. With acceptance comes peace.

  My friend and I have been doing the Alpha course. It's been challenging and thought provoking but well worth doing. Last night was about sharing your faith with those who may not know Jesus. Most of my friends are from church. I don't go out much. Never mind the fact that talking with people I don't know is very difficult. But then I shared about the blog and how many people have read it.

  Writing these words is where my faith has been cemented. It's a record of God's healing and redemption. His patience and grace are documented, celebrated. It's also where I am challenged to be better than I am. But more importantly, it's a written record of the dialogue I have with my Lord and Creator. It's the foundation of our relationship.

  But most of all, it's where I become more and more like the person God destined me to be. It's only through Him can it be even possible. 

 Next weekend the Alpha group will spend Saturday together to learn about the Holy Spirit. I've been asked to host an afternoon activity. It will be an introduction to praying through art with time to spend working on individual pieces.

  In true, human fashion, I was nervous about it.

  My friend and I have also been watching season 5 of The Chosen. It focuses on the events leading up to Jesus' betrayal by Judas. It is powerful, beautiful and sad all at the same time. 

  Time and again, Jesus tells the disciples He will be leaving them. He repeatedly assures them they won't be left alone, that His Spirit will be with them...always.

  

  I have been discipled in the Art of Prayer. The art making has become a sacred act, carefully refined over thousands of hours of creating images before God. I have experience in helping others rediscover their creative abilities. God prepared the way for all of this to be in place. It is also a redemption story recorded over hundreds of posts.

  It's a great comfort. 

  As the ole gray matter ponders the events unfolding next Saturday and practices (aka prays) what needs to be said and how, I am left smiling. God has given me a dream, a hope, for the future. For the first time in my life I can see it, taste it and welcome it.

  The yeast has proved. All that remains is learning how to bake bread!

  Maybe tomorrow.

  

  I heard the best description of sin this weekend thanks to my pastor. Sin is everything that takes us away from love. 

  If you haven't ever done so before, I ask you, dear readers, to turn towards the Author and Creator of the purest love that ever existed. Let Jesus show you what that's all about. He's pretty good at it. AMEN!